Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I was still wearing my party dress, but I’d ditched the wig, so there was no hiding my identity and no explanation good enough for me to be dressed for their event. I tore out after the clerk, practically running him over in an effort to find someplace to hide. Ida Belle and Gertie hadn’t uttered a peep. Clearly even though they had no idea why we were all running, they figured it was necessary, so they simply maintained a white-knuckle grip on the chairs and leaned around turns to help balance.

At the end of the short hallway was a set of double doors and the clerk burst through them, not even slowing. I saw the word Laundry on the door as I flew inside after him. I’d barely had time to breathe again when I heard a voice coming down the hall.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Crap! He was following us.

“Hide!” the clerk ordered.

Which was easier said than done.

The laundry room didn’t offer much in the way of hiding places. In fact, with washers and dryers lined up on one side and shelves on another, it didn’t offer much in the way of room at all, much less a cloak of invisibility. The clerk shoved Ida Belle’s chair next to a commercial dryer and grabbed a sheet off the top of it and threw it completely over her. Gertie pushed herself out of the chair and dived headfirst into the open dryer, pulling the door shut behind her.

And the dryer came on.

I was already mid-dive into a huge laundry cart full of damp towels and by the time I landed, I heard the doors open. I yanked the towels over my head and cringed as loud knocking from the dryer echoed through the room.

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, of course,” the clerk answered. “There was a bleach spill. Got to get these towels in the wash quickly or I’ll have to pay for them. Is there something I can help you with?”

“There was a woman with you…”

“Head of housekeeping. Her shift was over, so she headed out the back door.”

“But she was wearing a purple dress.”

I heard the clerk sigh. “Management has spoken to her about overdressing time and time again, but she’s simply a wizard at cleaning, so he’s finally given up. If she wants to dress up to scrub toilets then that’s her budget’s problem. Did you need more linens?”

“No,” Morgan said, sounding completely and utterly confused. “Thanks.”

I heard the door open and a second later, the clerk called, “Clear.”

I popped up out of the laundry cart and rushed over to the dryer as the clerk yanked it open. Gertie was upside down inside, so I spun the drum around until she was upright. Sort of. She groaned, and the clerk and I both reached in to grab an arm. As soon as our hands made contact with her shirt, sparks flew.

The clerk jumped back and Gertie let out a yelp. Even I had to admit that it had surprised me a bit and kind of smarted.

“This is exactly why I keep begging for fabric softener,” the clerk grumbled, making me wonder exactly how many times this had happened.

We reached in again, knowing to prepare for the static light show, and eased her out of the dryer and back onto the chair. Ida Belle had pulled the sheet off her head, and I could tell it was killing her not to be able to help.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Gertie looked like…well, like she’d been rolling around in a dryer. Her hair stood on end as if she’d stuck scissors in a light socket, and her skin was all red and splotchy from the heat. Giant beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.

“I feel like I’ve been in a sauna with a dinosaur shaking me like a James Bond martini,” she said.

“That’s very specific,” the clerk said. “But at least I don’t have to call the medical examiner this time.”

We all stared at the completely nonplussed clerk.

“Why did you run?” I asked, curiosity overwhelming me.

He raised one eyebrow. “You vaulted onto my desk and scaled the second-floor balcony to get away from that guy earlier. I didn’t figure you were interested in seeing him now.”

“Ah, yeah. Old boyfriend.” I tossed out the first story I could come up with.

He snorted. “Girl, that man was not dating you. But I don’t want to know. I don’t know anything. Can we please get to your room before 911 is back on my potential call list for the night? Don’t worry—your ‘old boyfriend’ has a room on a different floor and the service elevator is just around the corner.”

We managed to get back to our room without further incident, if you didn’t count that anytime someone’s hand got close to Gertie, it set off an electrical storm. The clerk helped me get Ida Belle into a chair at the table. Then we hefted ‘shaken not stirred’ Gertie into a chair beside her. When the infirm were securely seated, the clerk grabbed the backs of both chairs and started to head out.

“Wait!” I said and opened the closet.

He started to protest, assuming I was getting him a tip, but then his eyes widened in the first show of emotion I’d seen when I handed him the silver heels. He stared at the shoes, then whipped his gaze up to mine, studying my face, and I could see him trying to make sense of my balcony escape and the two seniors he’d just pushed in office chairs.

“You’re giving me these?” he asked.

“You earned them. And it looks like they’ll fit.”

“These are eight hundred dollars.”

I shrugged and pulled a card from my bag and handed it to him. “If you ever change your mind about your line of work, let me know. Your kind of calm is hard to come by. I know people who might be interested.”

He took the card and read it, and his eyebrows went up. “My aunt always said I’d make a good priest or a serial killer. I’m never quite sure how to take that.”

“Those aren’t the only two options.”

His lips quivered and a smile finally broke through. “Thanks for these. They’re incredible.”

I nodded and he headed out.

Gertie opened her purse and pulled out a small bottle. “I don’t understand what happened. Nora wrote the dosing instructions right on the bottle, see? One tablespoon per eight ounces of water.”

Ida Belle grabbed the bottle to read, then closed her eyes, and I figured she was praying, but I wasn’t sure if it was for the strength to not commit a crime or for Gertie’s eternal soul because she was about to meet her maker.

“It says a teaspoon!” she yelled. “Not tablespoon. Your bad vision is going to kill us all one day. How long is this going to last?”

“Nora said it was only good for about three hours, then you have to re-dose. There’s three teaspoons in a tablespoon, so nine hours? I never liked math.”

“But you only drank half,” I reminded her. “So maybe four hours or so, and some time has already passed, although you probably sipped, so anyway…you should still be up and around by tomorrow.”

“Great. I guess you can just prop me up bottoms-down on the toilet to sleep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink anything else,” Gertie said. “So I guess this means breaking into the ME’s office is off the table since our getaway driver is incapacitated. Or I could drive.”

I said a quick prayer of thanks that I’d put Ida Belle’s pistol out of her reach because there was no mistaking her glare.

Gertie pretended not to notice. “Can you pass me my cane? I wasn’t joking about having to pee earlier. I almost had an accident in that dryer.”

“Don’t worry,” I told Ida Belle as Gertie hobbled off. “We’ll figure out this leg thing. Let me ditch these clothes and stuff, and then we can talk business.”

I shed the dress and my nine and pulled on my shorts and tank, scrubbed off the makeup, and brushed my hair back into its usual ponytail. Then I popped our leftovers in the microwave and started loading them onto the table about the time Gertie returned.

“So now that we’re not running or hiding or doing laundry, did you get anything?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Ida Belle said. “I’ve got the USB in my pocket. What about you?”

I nodded and relayed the conversations I’d overheard as I served the food. They looked stunned at my reveal about Tyler’s dad being the one who’d blown the whistle on Justin’s father and had a good chuckle at my leap to the second-floor balcony.

“At least all that running makes sense now,” Ida Belle said.

“I think the clerk is a little in love with you,” Gertie said.

“He’s just in love with those shoes,” I said. “We should send Shadow over here to take lessons. That guy has no pulse.”

Ida Belle nodded. “Everything you heard at the dance adds weight to our suspicions. Unfortunately, it adds weight to all of them. I think you’re going to find this recording very interesting, especially in light of everything else.”

She pulled the USB out of her pocket and passed it to me. “I think this might give you some more perspective, especially about Amanda.”

I popped the USB into my laptop and queued up the audio, then sat back to listen. Ida Belle pulled out her phone with pictures she’d taken of the individuals while they were speaking. The first groups were random classmates and most of them said more of what I’d already heard about Justin back in high school. No one seemed broken up or surprised about his death. More than a few had suggested karma had finally caught up with him.

“Amanda and Brittany came out next,” Ida Belle said and showed me some pics. Brittany looked upset and worried, and Amanda looked stern and worried .

“I can’t believe Daniel was able to pull off that speech,” Brittany said. “Talking like Justin was such a great friend.”

“That’s what he needed to do,” Amanda said. “Anything else would have looked odd. Given the way this went down, you can’t afford for anyone to know what happened. I don’t know what that idiot sheriff is trying to accomplish, but the last thing you want to do is be on his radar. He’s already trying to use Justin’s death to screw Corndog and Petunia. As far as your unfinished business with Justin goes, it never happened.”

“We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen when a chunk of material is gone, and the receivable is still there glaring at Daniel every time he opens the books. We should have sued him before this. I asked you about it, time and time again.”

“And I told you that it does no good to sue someone if they don’t have anything. Justin conned Daniel, just like his father conned all those people. That’s the bottom line. I don’t even know why you invited him here.”

“Because Daniel foolishly thought by forcing him into some high school replay, he’d be able to convince him to do the right thing.”

“Are you even listening to me? Even if Justin wanted to do the right thing—which has never happened a single day in his life—he couldn’t. I’m the absolute best at my job and if there was even one thin dime to be gained, I would have gone for it. He was never going to pay you. It was always just another lie.”

“What if he had life insurance? Wouldn’t Daniel be a creditor?”

“I’ll check, but if you think someone like Justin paid for a life insurance policy, you’re smoking better weed than what Ricky used to grow in his mom’s old greenhouse. Number one, who would he have been covering? He only cared about himself. Number two, Justin never planned on dying. His death is just going to be another bill of his that others have to pay.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing he’s dead. At least he can’t ruin any more lives. Because when Daniel’s father finds out, it’s going to be hell on Daniel.”

“What’s he going to do, fire his only child from the business he’s going to inherit?”

“He’s threatened him before when he’s made a mistake—and one much less than a hundred grand. He keeps saying he’ll leave the business to his cousin’s son.”

“That douchebag who was quarterback at LSU?”

“That’s the one. He throws that guy in Daniel’s face every chance he gets. He’s still angry that Daniel didn’t play college ball.”

“Daniel wasn’t good enough to play college ball. Hell, he was Justin’s backup in high school. What’s there to be mad about?”

“That he wasn’t good enough. As far as his father is concerned, that was Daniel’s failure to train hard and apply himself.”

“Bullshit. Training can’t make you taller, and quarterbacks these days need to be taller to see over those giants rushing at them. Justin didn’t get any offers for college ball either. The best in Houma doesn’t hold a candle to the rest of the country’s stage.”

“You think I don’t know all that? Daniel has pushed himself to the edge of his capabilities every day of his life, but if you ask his father, Daniel isn’t worth the oxygen he’s consuming.”

“His father is a douche. We’ve always known that.”

“But that business is all Daniel knows. And if he loses his job, we’d have to move. Even if he could find another supply company hiring, they’re tiny in comparison and it would be a huge pay cut. We couldn’t survive on half or even less of his current salary. We’d have to move to a bigger city in order for him to get decent pay. That means closing my studio and selling my house. It means my whole life would be over.”

“Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that, but things will be a whole lot worse if Sheriff Stupid finds out about Justin screwing over Daniel. I’m going to tell you like I told Tyler— stop saying anything about Justin. Don’t even mention his name, and you sure as hell don’t talk about anything he did wrong.”

“But—”

“Not a word. And whatever it is you’re still not saying—and I know you’re hiding something—I don’t want to know what it is. For once in our lives, take my advice. My very educated, professional advice. Not. Another. Word.”

I stopped the audio and looked at Ida Belle and Gertie. “Holy crap! Here I was thinking when Amanda mentioned Brittany’s unfinished business with Justin it was going to be romantic business. I didn’t even see a business scam in there.”

Ida Belle nodded. “It was definitely a twist we didn’t see coming, but boy does it change the way I see things.”

“Agreed,” Gertie said. “Brittany just moved to the top of my suspect list. She could have easily used Justin’s lecherous behavior to get close enough to poison him. Maybe that’s what Amanda suspects but doesn’t want to know.”

“Definitely a possibility,” I said. “But that doesn’t necessarily explain the lipstick on the pillow. She didn’t need to get in bed with him to slip him doctored food. It doesn’t sound like she could even stomach the thought, much less pull it off. And then there’s the other side of the coin—what was there to gain? If they couldn’t get the money he scammed out of Daniel because he didn’t have it, then what good did killing him do?”

“You’re right,” Ida Belle said. “It’s damning, but still not an exact fit. Maybe Brittany didn’t believe Amanda and thought there had to be assets or insurance hiding somewhere. Or maybe she finally realized they were never going to get the money and figured revenge was as close as she could get to settling the score. It’s not perfect, but it is motive.”

“Enough to force an autopsy?” Gertie asked.

“Not as long as Bryce is calling the shots,” I said. “Corndog and Petunia have zero reason to murder someone, so an accidental death is the only way to pin it on them, but that’s all he needs to tie this up in a pretty bow and pave the way for his friend to buy their house. If this becomes a homicide, all the focus and blame shifts away from them due to lack of motive. Then they become the victims, which is the last thing Bryce wants, because then they’re likely to get more business, not less.”

“True,” Ida Belle agreed. “So how do we force his hand?”

“I wish I knew. I’ll try calling Casey tomorrow and see if she has any ideas on that one.”

“You’re going to want to hurry,” Ida Belle said. “Hit Play. After Amanda issued her go silent rule, she and Brittany went back inside. Then Daniel and Morgan came out.”

I hit Play on the recording again.

“Have you heard anything about what they’ll do with him?” Morgan asked. “Given that he has no family to handle things, I mean?”

“The sheriff said the parish would take care of it if no one steps forward,” Daniel said.

“So let me guess, you stepped forward.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let the parish put him in a box and an unmarked grave?”

“That’s not what they would do.”

“Yeah, but it still didn’t seem right. I told him I’d pay for cremation. Then I can scatter his ashes somewhere—the football field, his favorite fishing spot—somewhere like that.”

“You’re not going to ask for an autopsy?”

“I don’t think I can. And even if I could, why would I? We all know what happened.”

“I think that sheriff is using Justin’s death to try to con that couple into selling their house for half its value. He told Corndog he was pushing for manslaughter charges.”

“Jesus. How did you find that out?”

“Amanda and I ran into Rose and her aunts at Namaste Bar earlier today. They overheard the sheriff at the house while they were getting ready to leave saying that he was taking it to the DA.”

“I didn’t like that guy at all. What the heck is he thinking, going after an old man like that? Can he even do that? What did Amanda say?”

“She said it would be up to the DA to make the call after looking at the evidence but said it’s doubtful he’d pursue because it’s not a good look for a DA to go around pressing charges against seniors for a mistake. Especially if he has any political leanings.”

“They all have political leanings.”

“Agreed. So I figured nothing would come of it, but then Petunia called Rose while we were at the bar about leaving her earbuds behind and Rose heard Corndog arguing with someone in the background and asked what was going on.”

“Was it the sheriff again?”

“No. Some guy was there trying to scam them into selling their house—at a huge discount—since their business was about to be in the toilet and they would need the money. It sounds like even if there’s no charges, it’s going to ruin them. You know how the gossip mill is. And there’s no way that guy just showed up, knowing all of that, without it coming from the sheriff or one of us, and I know it wasn’t us. So… That’s why I was wondering about an autopsy.”

“Good Lord. This is all horrible. But how would an autopsy help? We all know he died from consuming peanuts somehow.”

“If there’s something in his stomach besides that fish, that’s enough reasonable doubt to clear Corndog. You know how drunk Justin was. He could have gotten a hold of something and eaten it after he went to bed. Hell, he could have had a bag of peanuts from the plane for all we know. He never said no to anything free.”

“Look, it sucks, for sure, but I still don’t know what we can do about it. When it comes down to it, we’re nobody where Justin is concerned. Crap. That’s Brittany calling me. I better get inside and see if something is going on.”

“Daniel left after that,” Ida Belle said, and I paused the audio. “He looked very uncomfortable with the entire conversation and practically bolted away. I took some pictures while they were talking. That third one is when Morgan mentioned Corndog and Petunia losing their house.”

She passed me her phone and I scrolled through the pictures. When I reached the third one, I immediately saw the shift in Daniel’s face. He’d looked depressed when they’d first come outside, and I assumed that had to do with figuring out how to tell his father that he’d been scammed by his supposed friend. But then it shifted to fear, which I found interesting. What was he afraid of? Daniel struck me as a nice enough guy, but Corndog and Petunia were basically strangers to him. Unless he knew or suspected that someone had deliberately slipped Justin peanuts, why would he look so scared?

Was he worried his wife had settled the score?

The next picture was of Morgan looking at Daniel as he walked away, his expression thoughtful. Did Morgan know what had really happened? Or at least suspect? He didn’t seem to miss much, and he’d obviously learned a lot from his psychiatrist friend. Was that why he’d offered to say he’d accidentally given Justin something with peanuts? Because he knew one of his friends had deliberately done it and he was attempting to cover for them while trying to shift the blame off Corndog and Petunia?

In his own words, Morgan always ‘put things back together.’

I hoped that wasn’t what was going on now because in high school, the things he did to make up for the others’ shortcomings might have gotten him punished or at worst, detention. But if he was covering for someone now, it might be accessory to murder.

“I wonder if anyone called Petunia about the earring,” Gertie said, breaking into my thoughts.

I checked my watch. It was almost eleven. “I’m going to guess no because I figure I would have heard from them otherwise, but I’ll double-check in the morning.”

“Brittany would be a fool to call about that earring,” Ida Belle said. “And she might not be as sharp as her sister, but she doesn’t strike me as foolish.”

“But wouldn’t she worry that Petunia will give it to Bryce?” Gertie asked. “Assuming she’s certain she lost it in Justin’s bedroom.”

“She might not be certain,” I said. “She didn’t risk going back for it a second time.”

“After everything that happened the first time, no one would have taken that risk,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe she had time to think on it and decided it was easier to claim ignorance about the whole thing. She could say she lost the earring somewhere and Justin must have found it and pocketed it, planning on giving it to her later, but he dropped it along with the key.”

I nodded. “The lipstick might prove she was in the room, but Bryce didn’t even notice it. He definitely won’t test it. It doesn’t fit his narrative. Amanda knows she’s hiding something and I’m certain she’s right. If anyone can read Brittany, it’s her twin. I just wish Amanda hadn’t told Brittany to keep whatever she’s hiding to herself.”

“Do you think Brittany would have admitted to sleeping with Justin?” Gertie asked. “Or killing him? Or both?”

“I wish I knew. Was that all of the recording?”

“No,” Ida Belle said. “There’s one more. Tyler came out while Morgan was still there, but I couldn’t really make heads or tails of their conversation.”

I pressed Play and after several seconds of silence the conversation began.

“What’s up?” Tyler asked.

“Just talking to Daniel about how that sheriff is going to screw over the old couple,” Morgan said.

“What are you talking about?”

Morgan explained the situation to Tyler as he had to Daniel.

“Man, that’s seriously screwed up,” Tyler said when he’d finished.

“I agree. And all it would take to fix it is if one of us admitted to bringing something with peanuts onto the island.”

“Why would that matter?”

“Because if Corndog didn’t make a mistake with the oil—and I’m not convinced he did—then that means Justin got those peanuts somewhere else. If we can force an autopsy and they find something in his stomach other than the fish, then Corndog is good. ”

“You’re not suggesting I be the person who makes that claim, are you?”

“You’re the only one who brought a bag of snacks onto the island.”

“That you’re aware of. Other people might have had snacks in their luggage.”

“True. But the others’ favorite candy bar isn’t Snickers. And Justin didn’t try to set up anyone else for an assault charge.”

“That woman retracted her statement, and you know good and well I never assaulted her. I’m certain Justin offered her money, then didn’t pay, which is why she changed her story. You’re not suggesting I intentionally gave the guy peanuts hoping he’d be too drunk to save himself, are you?”

“I don’t recall suggesting anything. Just pointing out facts.”

There were several seconds of silence before I heard Tyler issue a statement that would have had him sitting cross-legged in Namaste Bar for a month at least.

“I took video this time,” Ida Belle said and passed me her phone.

I watched as they talked and saw Tyler’s increasing agitation as Morgan spoke. Finally, he jumped up from the bench and issued his directive complete with hand signals and stomped back into the hotel. Morgan watched him as he went and stared at the door after it closed, frowning. After ten seconds had passed, he rose and headed into the hotel.

“Wow,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “So it sounds like some woman accused Tyler of assault and Tyler suspected Justin of hiring her to do it. But then she backed off her story.”

“Maybe Justin was looking for revenge for his father’s conviction,” Gertie said. “I know it was Tyler’s father who sent him up, but Tyler is the one Justin had access to.”

Ida Belle nodded. “Based on everything we’ve heard about Justin, I have to say it wouldn’t surprise me. ”

“I agree,” I said. “And it definitely puts the spotlight on Tyler. Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree with Brittany. Morgan seems to have Tyler in his sights, and I don’t think he misses much.”

Ida Belle nodded. “But unless Tyler cops to having something with peanuts, we still don’t have enough to force an autopsy. Unless Morgan makes an accusation. Do you think he’ll take it that far?”

I frowned. “Hard to say. He seems the type that wants things to be fair and moral, but if he doesn’t know for certain that Tyler is the one who pushed something with peanuts—even if it was accidental—then I’m not sure he’d put it out there.”

“You think that’s why Amanda was telling Tyler to stop talking?” Gertie asked. “You think he called her for legal advice when the assault accusation happened?”

“I’d bet on it,” I said. Then I had another thought and pulled my laptop over and did a quick search. “Tyler brought Nicole her favorite chocolates from that chocolatier in Baton Rouge. Let me look at something. Hmmm.”

I spun the laptop around to show them. “Nicole’s favorites don’t have peanuts, but look at their bestseller.”

“Peanut butter chocolate,” Ida Belle said. “Definitely would have been easy enough for Tyler to buy a few and slip some into Justin’s room. Look how they’re sold—individually wrapped and sold and then packaged in those fancy velvet bags.”

I nodded. “It would have been easy to grab a couple peanut butter ones and take them out before he gave the bag to Nicole.”

“Absolutely,” Ida Belle agreed. “And it might be that Tyler wasn’t trying to kill him. Justin did have an EpiPen. Maybe he just wanted to make him sick and miserable and because Justin was so drunk, things went sideways.”

“Certainly plausible,” I agreed. “But completely unprovable.”

Gertie sighed. “So we’re all the wiser on everyone, with a couple of big surprises, and some even better theories, but we’re no closer to forcing an autopsy. I vote for breaking out the banana pudding and everything you two don’t eat, I’m going to eat myself in one sitting. Then I’m going to bed. It doesn’t look like there’s anything else we can do tonight.”

Ida Belle huffed. “I guess I’m going to sit here in this chair all night.”

I shook my head. “You’re going to eat a big serving of banana pudding, then I’m going to help you to bed. Can you feel anything yet?”

Ida Belle poked her leg and brightened. “I felt that. And I can move them a little. Maybe I’ll be okay by morning. Then I can kick Gertie out of bed. And I mean really kick her.”

“Seems fair.”

Gertie didn’t even argue.